We Have Standards Here
by jerzeegurl
Summary: Tumblr prompt and AU of sorts. Takes place in the latter part of S2. Jimmy and Richard decide to check out the new American Legion in town and cause such a ruckus they get kicked out.


—"And stay out, ya bums!"

It's the last thing Richard hears (well that, and the sound of what he thinks may be a rib cracking) as he crashes down the cement steps, landing hard on his left upper side. And he knows without looking that the second thud is Jimmy.

It hurts to move so he lays still replaying the last hour or so over in his head. It all started out the same as any another night, with the (_minor_) exception that Jimmy had been particularly melancholy all day, much more so than others. It was obvious that he needed a distraction from the nothingness.

Babette's wasn't an option at the moment; her being pissed at Jimmy about the quality of the shipments not to mention the labor strike. He wasn't exactly welcome at home, nor was the Commodore's a safe haven if his father happened to be out of bed. Richard was about to suggest a nice steak at the Knife and Fork (he himself unable to partake, though their mashed potatoes were very good) when his friend pulled a crumpled pamphlet out of his coat pocket, the puzzled look on Jimmy's face revealing how he'd forgotten they'd been handing them out on Memorial Day. He smirked for the first time in what seemed an eternity and Richard reached out to have a look for himself, letting his fingers linger alittle longer than he should have when their hands brushed as Jimmy passed it to him.

**"AMERICAN LEGION, post # 227**

**New Members Welcome"**

Certainly a change of pace. And before he knew it, Jimmy was handing him the keys.

They found a spot in the corner and kept to themselves, but it wasn't long before Jimmy grew irritated. Over what, he wasn't sure but he let it go. What was Jimmy is he wasn't somewhat edgy about something? They were getting another round when they heard snickering a few stools away. Richard had grown accustomed to comments about his appearance. Jimmy, on the other hand, had not nor would he ever.

"What'd you say, asshole?"

He had him by the collar when the bar keep intervened.

"We have standards here," he began with a smile. "Surely there's a better way to settle this. Gentlemen place your bets!"

The rules were simple: a one on one match to the end, no weapons.

With his opponent towering over him and outweighing him by a good forty pounds, the odds were not in Jimmy's favor. But they didn't know Jimmy.

Richard couldn't help swelling with pride as he watched; Jimmy bobbing and weaving so gracefully no one would ever guess he had a bad leg (though it would hurt like hell tomorrow). He landed a few shots to the kidneys. A left upper cut followed by a right hook and it was all over.

Except…it wasn't, which Richard must've known subconsciously all along given that he'd already rolled up his own sleeves.

One of the patrons, having bet heavily against him, sucker punched Jimmy as he was pulling his suspenders back up. It was a hard blow to the face, splitting his near perfect lip and when Richard saw the blood…well, he didn't really remember a lot after that. Broken pool sticks? A chair leg (or two?) Bodies stewn all over the floor.

He heard the door opening behind him again and braced himself for the worst.

"You fellas alright?"

A hand gently touched his left shoulder, rolling him over and sitting him upright. He opened his eye to see an older man before him. Upon righting him (and seeing his face, no less) he quickly moved on to Jimmy.

"Hey kid, I thought that was you," he was saying. "You went to school with my son, got into some fancy college—Yale—right?"

"Princeton," Jimmy spit out both the word along with more blood. "Who's your son?"

"Fred Sagorsky."

Jimmy nodded in recognition.

"How's he doing these days?"

"Kid, you may be a long way from Princeton, but you've still got him beat. Freddie…he didn't make it back."

They could both feel his loss keenly. No mere words could change that.

"Let me look atcha," the man continued, drawing Jimmy's chin up to further inspect the extent of his injuries. "The face bleeds a lot. _—Shit."_

Richard knew he hadn't meant it as a slight, raised a hand to wave it off. This was around the time he must've noticed Jimmy's wedding band (though the knuckles on both of their hands were wide open) and he heard the man sigh.

"You can't go home like that, kid. Come on," he continued as he helped Jimmy up, "I got a girl at home. She'll clean ya up….both of ya."


End file.
